


As Time Goes By

by saizoswifey



Category: SLBP - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad Party - Fandom, Samurai Love Ballad: PARTY, 天下統一恋の乱 | Sakura Amidst Chaos | Samurai Love Ballad (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fingering, First Time, Fluff, Smut, romantic smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 06:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17844191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saizoswifey/pseuds/saizoswifey
Summary: Your alone time with Kanetsugu has grown into something neither of you intended or expected.





	As Time Goes By

     The flame was dying. Kanetsugu turned a page, yellowed and brittle and worn from the years its seen. It was an old collection of strategies and formations, and for a moment he tried to recall just exactly where he had acquired it from, and when. He’d had it so long now the memory escaped him entirely, like they did for a great number of things that surrounded his tidy room. 

_The flame was dying._ And as the last bits of life flickered from it, so did their eyes take turns glancing at one another in a rather knowing way. He looked with wonder at where she sat, legs tucked underneath her and the curve of her spine as she leaned over her book so picturesque. He was a man, and a strong and capable one at that. This all felt so juvenile; the rapidity of his heart and the stolen glances and the warmth radiating on his cheeks. And yet…at the same time, it was fresh and exciting. 

     Despite being several feet apart, he swore he could smell the fresh florals in her hair and feel her breath caressing against his skin in slow measured beats. He felt his pulse quicken when her thick lashes dragged up from her own text, giving way to her gaze which washed over him from across the floor. And for a moment he wondered what it was that she saw. _What could she possibly see in him?_ If he’d asked, she would tell him. 

     She’d say that for all of his severe looks, he had a rather wistful and playful air about him. That she adored his oval face, the youthfulness of his features that shined through the cracks of his battle-hardened facade. Especially when he rolled up his nose in displeasure, a sure sign of an incoming lecture. That, despite the days when the lines of unrest drew long and deep in his skin, and his mouth was pressed into that immutable thin line—the days when his age and hardships he’s witnessed was very much apparent; he was still so vibrant to her. So effortlessly handsome. 

     “More tea?” she slips with a rather mischievous air. 

     He’d better not, he thought, giving her a pointed look that said he knew _precisely_ what she was inferring. Another cup would mean prolonging her stay into the evening. It was already against his better judgment to keep her sole company in his room after dusk. He was currently in the habit of doubling the retainers workloads in order to distract them from stumbling upon…well, whatever _this_ situation was. When had they begun spending time this way? 

     She had been cleaning his quarters one afternoon, several weeks ago, now that he thought about it. He had been writing a letter as she dusted, not a sound save for the occasional shuffling of her feet and the movement of the brush across the page. 

     “Oh!” she exclaimed. 

     The sudden jolt of excitement made him jump, and his brush inked a jagged path downwards across the letter, effectively ruining the entire thing. His eyes went wide and he turned, as quickly as any person would when they sense danger, expecting to find her in some sort of peril. Instead, she was casually pulling a book from his shelves and eyeing it with mouth agape. 

     “I loved this book as a little girl,” she said, nostalgic and not even bothering to glance his way.

     He looked down at his ruined letter, then back at her, saving his sigh when he saw her slender fingers stroke the binding, swallowing any sort of scolding he was about to give her for startling him so. It was just a letter, after all. Perhaps the greatest gift his Lord had given him was his immeasurable wealth of patience. 

     Kanetsugu’s face softened when he noticed which book she was flipping through. “Ah, yes. That one is Ai’s favorite as well.” He didn’t bother to hide the fondness in his tone, the memories of holding Ai in his lap and reading from those exact pages warmed his heart. How she went from falling asleep before he even reached the middle to asking for another book when he had finished. Now she was getting so big, it was a rare occasion she asked for him to read to her at all.

     “You are welcome to borrow it, if you’d like.” 

     “Truly? You wouldn’t mind?” She beamed.

     And there it was, this contracted fluttering in his chest that he worked to brush away as quickly as possible. The feelings he would pinpoint and eliminate. Like catching a rabbit in your vegetable garden. _Shoo, don’t ruin what I’ve worked so hard to cultivate_. 

     “Not at all. Some of these haven’t been cracked open in quite some time. It would be nice to know they were getting some use for once.” 

     “Alright, then… Thank you. I’ll come by to fetch it after dinner?” 

     “Surely,” he smiled. 

     And when the sun was setting she announced herself at the door before entering with a tray of sweets and warm tea. 

     “What’s this?” Kanetsugu asked in astonishment when she placed it at the corner of his desk, careful not to disturb his work. 

     “To thank you for the book, of course. Just a small token.” 

     “That’s not necessary,” he cast his eyes to the side briefly, fixing his posture once more when she grabbed the book. He looked at the intricately designed tray and the delicate desserts sitting prettily atop it, then to her, not sure why his body was compelled to move without a thought in advance. His rush to catch her before she left had him speaking without thinking. “At least stay a moment and share some of this with me?” 

     “I couldn’t possibly…”

     “I insist,” he gestured to a spot near him, eyes full of kindness. “I’m sure you’re tired from the days work, something sweet is always good for perking up.” He talked to her a bit like he talked to Ai, and some small speck of a voice inside his gut was cursing him for it. Rusty. _How does one properly speak to a woman?_

     “Well…just for a short while, then.” 

_Just for a short while._ Yes. 

     However, she kept coming back. Not just to borrow books, sometimes she’d bring him new sweets to try. Other times she’d ask for his help with a particular text; those were his favorite evenings. She looked up to him eagerly when he waxed on, and every now and again their knees might brush or their hands collide on the page. _She smelled pleasant_. 

     He had asked her one evening, in the middle of their quiet page turning. He set down his brush with all seriousness, but his voice remained padded with formal kindness. “In case you were not aware, the price of borrowing a book from me is not your freedom. I promise I would not be offended if you chose less boring surroundings to spend what little free time you have.” 

     “I like it here, it’s peaceful,” she smiled. A beautiful and brilliant smile. “But if I’m a bother in any way…” 

     Kanetsugu shook his head. “Not at all. I was simply giving you an out, as it were.”

     “Oh, I see. Well then, I’d prefer to stay if it’s all the same.”

     She shuffled closer to the lamplight, reminding Kanetsugu just how beautiful she looked washed in its glow, _and just how late it was getting_. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat near a woman at a teahouse, let alone entertain one in his room so late into the evening. 

     He cleared his throat. “Very well,” he mumbled, faux nonchalant. In a desperate attempt to hide his blush, he buried his face back into the document he had been marking. 

     It seemed each night she stayed later and later. And in turn, he found himself finishing war councils as quickly as possible in order to see her. Even Kenshin had begun to take notice. 

     “My, Kanetsugu, I think that’s the quickest briefing you’ve ever given!” Kenshin had looked down at him with wonder-wide eyes. The statement was laced with a mischievous glittering not lost on Kanetsugu. Instead, like a butterfly, he snatched it from the air between them and crushed it in his fist, all while smiling. 

     “And I am quite certain I made it clear we were not to hear a peep out of a certain Lord until his mountain of paperwork was taken care of. Surely someone crushed under the weight of his own cunctation has not the time for himself, let alone to be keeping it for others.” 

_He knew something_. Despite all his other hangups, Kenshin was much too clever for his own good at times. Even so, day after day Kanetsugu couldn’t bring himself to turn her away each time her light steps brought her to his door. Once, she had even fallen asleep. It had been curiously quiet, and when he looked up from his desk he saw her there—splayed out on the floor, eyes closed and breathing steadily with sleep. 

     His first instinct should have been to wake her, ask her to go back to her own room. Instead, he let her rest there for a while. When he finished his work he watched her sleep peacefully, the sight bringing a smile to his face. He gazed upon her in a way he couldn’t possibly when she was awake or working in the castle. He loved the way her lashes rested against her cheek and the curve of her lips. Her hands were still clutching the book she had been reading. 

     “Which one is your favorite?” She had asked him not long before that, standing shoulder to shoulder with him and peering up at his bookshelf. 

     “My favorite? I’m not sure I could choose just one. However, I find this one to be rather enjoyable,” he said, plucking a thick text from the tidy row. 

     “I’d like to read it, then!” 

     “I’m not sure if you would find it to your liking…” he replied sheepishly, but she had already stolen the book from his grasp and sat down in her usual spot. 

     She simply replied, “If it’s one you like, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

_What did you mean by that_ , he had asked her later, while she slept there on his floor. And when she said nothing in response he tucked her hair behind her ear and removed the book from her hands. It would be the first time he secretly wished she could remain in his room. 

     Yes, even after that night, he continued to go against all better judgment by allowing himself time with her. He decided he might only feel guilty because he enjoyed it so much. 

_The flame was dying._

     A sign of their time together drawing to a close, she would soon retreat back to her own quarters. Kanetsugu tried to pay attention to anything and everything else. The sound of his fingers leafing through a stack of letters, the last drops of tea in his lacquered cup, the splotch of black ink on his finger— _wait, when did that happen?_ He was normally very tidy, even when scribing. He scowled a bit at the evidence of his carelessness then rubbed at his hand for a moment to dispel the smear, but it proved to be a temporary distraction at best. As soon as he looked up, his eyes were drawn right back to _her_. 

     Her profile was more lovely than he could ever describe. The lines of her face and the orange glow of the faint flickering flame reflected in her eyes when she looked back at him. Even in silence, her company was an utter delight. It was easy to see why a man could fall for her. But when had _he_ started to see her in this way? 

    “One more cup of tea won’t do any harm,” she says, choosing to ignore his earlier disapproval of the idea. 

_Cheeky_. 

     The flame is dead. 

     Before she can make a move for more tea, before he can politely decline, the tiny fire flickers its last, jolting to the left and then disappearing entirely. A thin string of smoke snaking up the cold moonlight in its wake. 

     “Oh!” She starts. 

     “I’ll get it,” he says. 

     In the darkness, they both reach for the lamp but find each other instead. She’s holding on to his hand? _She’s holding on to his hand_. She feels so warm. His heart leaps into his throat, and he’s sure his eyes are wide as the bowls in which she serves them rice. 

     He can just make out her features by the light of the moon. She’s so close, not more than a heartbeat away, and their noses almost touch. They’re both frozen in darkness, exchanging a million words and emotions in their silent admiration. She’s breathing a bit faster, and maybe he is too. 

     “Kanetsugu…” She whispers, and her warm breath tickles his skin. 

     His name from her lips twirls between them in the darkness. _His_ name… It rolls over his body with all the pleasant tingling of a thousand tiny feathers, sending a shiver of electricity up his spine. He moves his face forward, gently, slowly pressing his lips to hers in a soft and mature kiss. _How long he’s wanted to do this_. It’s quick, and he thinks that even had the sensation lasted a lifetime it would still be over too soon. However, he pulls away, despite every inch of him crying desperately to scoop her in his arms and hold her tight. 

     “It’s late,” he says quietly. An excuse for his actions. _Leave_ , he thinks, hoping she will take the hint and retreat back to her room. He should say sorry, but he isn’t. Not one bit. 

     “Not so late.”

_Was she moving closer?_

     “You should be off to bed.”

     “I’m not tired,” she murmurs into his lips. 

     And this time, it is _she_ who kisses _him_. Those soft sweet lips send bursts of white light against the back of his eyelids. She tugs at his sleeve, her tiny fist clutching the fabric like a lifeline when his tongue caresses her own. He sweeps his arm against the small of her back, pressing her to him and lowering her to the ground. 

     His emotions and desire overwhelm and consume him. He wants to be free of these ropes that tether him to responsibility and cordial politeness and duty. He shrugs them off, shedding each one like winter fur. _But that doesn’t mean_ —

    “Is this alright?” He pauses and asks. A little late, he scolds himself, he already has a handful of her breast. 

     “Yes,” she laughs, and _oh how he loves the sound_. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t come here for the books in quite some time.”

     His cheeks flush rose, but he doubts she would have caught it. Still, as an act of want and an effort to hide his flustered expression, he buries his face in her neck and worships the skin with his lips and teeth and tongue. Suckling tenderly. He wants so many things at once, his brain is working him dizzy. Or perhaps it’s finally being so intimate with that familiar scent of hers that's making his world spin. He breathes in against her hairline, drunk with want. 

     Mentally, he shakes some sense into himself. He was _not_ this man, swept up by his own emotions and selfish desires. Taking his pleasures from his partner with wild abandon. No. He looked down at her beneath him, taking in the sight of her ruffled kimono and her hair splayed about her head on the tatami; as beautiful a haloed crown as the golden glowing ring that dons the horizon at daybreak. She was much too precious to rush. 

     His brows furrow, lips pressed into a serious thin line. “I’m embarrassed to admit, but I am not very practiced in matters of…intimacy. Consequently, I-“ he clears his throat, feeling the rising heat in his face. He brushes the backs of his fingers along the soft skin of her jaw, “-I am not sure what you are willing to receive just yet.” 

     She takes hold of his hand, the caress nurturing in nature. Even now, her kindness seeps through him and wraps his very soul in a warm love. Slowly, ever so slowly, she moves him down between her legs, never breaking their mutual gaze. 

     “I know…but please, touch me,” she begs. “It’s okay.” 

     He nods, lets himself wander, slipping inside of her warmth. The gasp she makes will never leave his memory, he’s sure of it. She’s so wet and slick on his fingertips its heavenly. Her legs twitch at the sensation of knowing his touch for the first time. He feels his own self twitch, but he is not so easily swayed to seek release. This moment belonged to _her_ , there would be time enough yet to know her in that way, and many others.

     Drowning in the pleasures of his curling fingers, she pulls him to her warm bare chest. He brushes the curves with his face, planting sweet kisses here and there as he does so. And when she finally lets out a moan, the sound pulls his heart like a ripcord, sending it spiraling and knocking against his lungs and ribcage. 

     “More…I want to hear more of that voice,” he admits against the skin of her breast. 

     “ _Ahh,_ I’m—“ 

_You’re what?_

     The rest is lost in her deep panting. Something inside tells him to increase the speed of his fingers, and so he does. Her body is pressed tightly against him as she bucks into his palm. The flesh he tastes and nibbles in his mouth is more delectable than any dessert she’s ever presented him. In time, he moves up her throat to capture her kiss. 

     “Are you feeling good?” He asks. 

     Her head is tipped back, eyes shut tightly as the strangled whimpers of her climax wind up her graceful neck. “Incredible,” she manages. 

     “ _My darling_.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but he isn’t embarrassed. Perhaps some part of him had been dying to say it for quite some time. The words escape him in a heated pant against the corner of her mouth and she laces her fingers in his hair. 

     “I’ve loved you for so long.” She seals the admission with a kiss. 

     It’s more than he can bear; her words and the taste of her tongue and the feel of her pleasure rattling against his fingers inside of her. He whispers that he loves her too; _and he does_. He knows it now. He wants to hold her in his arms night after night, he wants to fuck her senseless and leave his name on her lips, he wants to be the one to protect her, he wants to see her in the kitchen and hear her sweet hums and how she mumbles ingredients to herself when she thinks no one is around. He wants her for himself. 

     “Please…Don’t hold back, I-” _I want to hear you come_. The thought surprises him, and he can’t bring himself to speak it though it’s true. He’s never been so turned on. 

     Her face is erotic and intoxicating when she finally releases, and he can’t bring himself to look at anything else. More than just his newfound dirty thoughts, he’s surprised by how apt he is with his hands. And despite his lack of experience, how efficiently and quickly he brings her pleasure. Even as he feels her thighs shake and clutch around him, he continues his ministrations until she is limp. 

     There’s a lot he wants to say—a lot that needed to be said, but he was pragmatic. Conversation can wait. He pulls her into his arms protectively and together they lay in comfortable silence. There, on the floor between the lamp and the book, he was happy to simply bask in the warmth of his most precious lover. 

______

 

    In the early morning hours, familiar footsteps tread lightly in the castle garden, leaving a trail of sandalwood in their wake. Everything was as usual. The fish in the pond, all accounted for. The birds' songs in the trees, hidden by swaying branches full of flower buds ready to burst. Everything was as it should be, _except_ …

     Kenshin sighed, who knew peace could be so boring? Right about now, Kanetsugu would usually appear out of nowhere like a demon from the shadows, pulling his collar and dragging him back to his work. But it seemed as if his adventure would go on today without an adversary. 

     Looking back at Kanetsugu’s room, a knowing smile pulls at Kenshin’s lips. Disappointing but…sometimes, a little change could be good. 


End file.
